


Ephesians 4:31-32

by jive



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, M/M, Multi, Past Infidelity, Relationship Discussions, rating and tags will change for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 13:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11624931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jive/pseuds/jive
Summary: “I'm sorry,” he says.Forgiveness, much like respect, is earned, not given.Joseph knows far too well that he has much to say, much to do, and much to prove, to earn both of those things back from both Mary and Robert.He's hurt them. He's hurt them both in ways for which he knows he has no right to ask for forgiveness.But still, he tries.





	Ephesians 4:31-32

**Author's Note:**

> _Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice._
> 
> _Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you._   
>    
>  This fic takes place in a pseudo mash-up AU where, without being romantically involved with either Joseph or Robert, the MC manages to convince both of them to do what needs to be done.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

Forgiveness, much like respect, is earned, not given.

Joseph knows far too well that he has much to say, much to do, and much to prove, to earn both of those things back from both Mary and Robert.

He's hurt them. He's hurt them both in ways for which he knows he has no right to ask for forgiveness.

But still, he tries.

He asks anyways. He talks with them —  the both of them —  for hours upon hours, and despite all the tears, the well-deserved shouting and screaming, and the crying that happens so often that they've run out of tissues, they miraculously accept his apologies.

But they won't forgive him.

Not yet.

He hasn't earned the right to be forgiven yet, and Joseph accepts it. He wholeheartedly agrees.

He can only be grateful that the kids are with their grandparents for the week, far away and unable to see the mess their parents and their “Uncle” Robert has become, eyes and faces all reddened and damp from drying tears and freshly reopened heartache.

“I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness,” he says, gaze firm on the both of them, absolutely resolute in his decision. He needs to make amends, not for the petty reason of alleviating his own conscience of guilt, but to ease the suffering that he's inflicted on the both of them.

He's not so foolish as to think he can just erase all the anguish he's caused the three of them in the span of one afternoon and a single apology. He knows the wounds his actions have left on their hearts will never go away, but if he can at least get them to start healing, to start stitching up the injuries, then he'll do whatever it takes. He owes them that much.

They look at him first, then at each other, the anxiety and apprehension in their eyes making it crystal clear that they still doubt him, that they still doubt his intentions. And he doesn't blame them for that.

“Give us some time,” Mary says, hands clenched and clasped together atop the dinner table. Her eyes don't meet his, looking off to the side as if unable to even look at him without getting upset again.

“We've got some stuff to talk about,” Robert adds, expression tight and body tensed in a way Joseph recognizes. He's withdrawing into himself, the lengthy discussion where they all spilled their hearts into the open clearing taking a toll on him.

They're wary; they're afraid he'll just break their hearts again.

He doesn't blame them for being cautious.

“Got it,” he says, nodding. “I'll be at the church, then. Take as long as you need.”

Their discussion lasts well into the evening, and by the time the church doors close, Joseph still hasn't received any word from either of them. He contemplates just staying inside the church for the rest of the night, and after coming to the conclusion that there is no other place for him to go — nowhere else where questions wouldn't be asked or trust wouldn't be broken again — Joseph begins to wander towards the minister’s office, his own office, figuring that the couch would offer a somewhat comfortable place to rest his head for the night.

He never thought he would ever see the church as a place he would describe as ‘cold’ given all the happy, friendly faces of the parishioners that always seem to greet him whenever they see him in the building, but beneath the fluorescent lights, the empty hallways and linoleum floors makes Joseph feel as empty inside as the church is now. His footsteps echo the building, the solid heels of his loafers clapping against the polished floors, and he can't help but compare the sound to those of his own footsteps against the hardwood floors of his own house. Even on the rare occasions he was in the house by himself and everything was clean and spotless, Joseph can't recall feeling anything but ‘warm’ there.

He flips off the lights with a sigh, and takes a few steps up the stairs when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

From Mary: Where r u?

His thumb flies across the screen to answer her.

To Mary: Still at the church

He wants to ask if their discussion has ended yet, if it's all right for him to return home, but he knows better. He left the house specifically so Mary and Robert wouldn't feel pressured by his presence, after all. Nevertheless, the anxiety in his chest doesn't go anywhere, coiling and writhing in his chest as he watches the three dots on the screen fade in and out.

From Mary: Come home.

To Mary: Have u 2 eaten yet?

From Mary: Not yet. Get pizza.

He begins typing his reply when another message from Mary immediately dings on his phone.

From Mary: Hawaiian plz

To Mary: 1 pepperoni and 1 Hawaiian. Got it.

From Mary: Smalls says 2 Hawaiian or you're a coward.

He gets home less than an hour later with two pizzas in tow, both Hawaiian, technically, one with the usual ham and pineapple, while the other is something less traditional.

“Hawaiian Barbecue?” Robert remarks, grimacing slightly when he tastes barbecue sauce instead of tomato, and his teeth tear through a cheesy pocket of chicken, bacon, pineapple, and onion.

“Coward,” Mary snorts, grabbing a slice from the other box.

“Still a Hawaiian pizza, technically,” Joseph replies. A small smile makes its way onto his face, and he shrugs before he grabs a slice of pizza from the same box Robert did, noting the way Robert is already biting into his crust.

It's a little foolish of him feel this way, but the fact that the both of them are still willing to joke with him like this brings a small warmth to Joseph's chest — a different warmth than he's used to feeling, a nostalgic kind of warmth. For a moment, things feel right between them again, like how it was before the kids came into the picture and after Robert had just moved to Maple Bay and into their little cul-de-sac. He and Mary had taken it upon themselves to befriend the newcomer, and they all got along swimmingly. He dare not get his hopes up too much, though. There is still so much work to be done before things are even close to being fixed between the three of them, and he knows better than to count his proverbial chickens before they hatch.

They eat in relative silence after that, Mary tucking away two slices before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen. The men put away three slices each before Joseph taps himself out when Robert reaches for his fourth.

The silence lingers, and Joseph can feel Robert's gaze on him every now and then though he never meets those piercing brown eyes with his own. The urge to try and lighten the mood, to stir up some form of conversation, begins to crawl up his chest like a frog in his throat, but he quickly quashes it back down, remembering how much Robert dislikes small talk.

Instead, he drums his fingers on the table, and his idle gaze settles on Mary's empty chair, still pulled out as if waiting alongside himself and Robert for Mary's return. Joseph’s mind begins to wander. Where has Mary gone? What did she and Robert discuss beyond Joseph’s inexcusable behavior and actions? Did they come to a conclusion as to what he needed to do to earn their forgiveness?

A storm of anxiety rumbles in his chest and he expects for the worst.

“Breathe, for crying out loud,” he hears Robert grumble, “You're turning bluer than your damn sweater.”

Joseph does as he's told. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales just as forcefully the same way. The knot in diaphragm slowly unwinds, and by the time Mary gets back with two glasses of wine — “Hey, what about me?” — and a bottle of water for Robert, he's calmed down a little. He does raise an eyebrow when Robert untwists the cap and takes a sip, though, slightly in awe at the sight. He's almost positive they still have a bottle of whiskey somewhere in the house, and half-expected some strong words to be said about its absence at the table.

“I'm cutting myself off. Going sober like I shoulda done ages ago,” Robert says, answering Joseph’s unspoken question.

“He's been clean for about a week now,” Mary chimes in, raising her now half-full glass at Robert while leaning over to hand the other one to him. “I'm so proud of him.”

“Gold star,” Robert chuckles, raising his water bottle.

Joseph raises his glass in recognition as well, but hesitates to bring it to his lips. Wasn't drinking in front of someone trying recover a little… inconsiderate?

“It's fine,” he says, waving it off. “Mary's been drinking in front of me all week.”

He's about to open his mouth in protest,unsure as to what to do, when he realizes Robert's eyes haven't left his face and Mary's gaze is boring into him too. Hesitantly, he reaches for the glass, picking it up with an unsteady hand. He swirls the wine once, twice, three times before he takes a sip.

The floral notes tickle his nose quite pleasantly, and the drink goes down smooth. The taste of the wine is familiar, but definitely not something he or Mary drinks regularly, and he can't quite put his finger on the year or vintage until his eyes drift to the label on the bottle and the realization hits him like a pile of bricks.

There, on customized label adhered to the green glass, reads:

Joseph and Mary Christiansen

June 16th, 2006

sandwiching their favorite engagement photo.

One of the bottles of wine left over from their wedding, of course. How could he have forgotten? A small smile makes its way onto his lips at the sight of the barely visible 1 in the date text, the recollection of a happy, giggling, tipsy Mary still in her wedding dress scratching at the number on all the extra bottles of wine they were sending  home — “Look, sugarbear, our wedding date’s scary now!” —  just as vivid as the rest of his wedding day flashing through his mind.

His eyes settle on the photograph and the smile quickly fades. He and Mary looked so young and happy then… Guilt pangs in his chest, and he continues to state at the label almost nostalgically.

“Don't make that face,” Mary says suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts, “I didn't break open a bottle of something that reminds me of one of the happiest days of my life just to guilt trip you.”

The tone of her voice is serious and slightly distant, yet contains no trace of the resentment and weariness it usually does. Joseph's heart eases a little and he takes another sip. For some reason, it tastes slightly sweeter than before, and before he knows it, he finishes the glass at the same time Mary does. The empty glasses are placed back onto the table, and Mary makes no move to refill either.

Her eyes look at Robert, who looks back somewhat expectantly, his empty hand giving her a careless wave as if encouraging her to say what's on her mind. An unusual gesture, to say the least, as Mary isn't the kind of woman who would let anyone stop her from speaking her mind to begin with, let alone defer to someone else for permission.

Mary sits up straighter, and Joseph does the same, giving her his full attention as she begins to speak.

“Sma- Robert and I talked while you were gone — duh — and we discussed a lot of things a great deal,” she says, “While we still haven't forgiven you — and to be perfectly honest, we aren't even sure if we ever will — for what you did to us, we did decide on what the first step should be for you to earn our forgiveness.”

“Given how much shit we've all been through, Mary and I came to the conclusion that wouldn't be fair — for you, her, me, any of us —  to make you choose what you're gonna do right away. Whether or not you stay and work things out with Mary or go fuck off and do your own thing isn't gonna be an easy decision to make — and definitely not one I'm gonna get involved in, ‘cause that's between you two — so for now, we're gonna focus on fixing whats going on with the three of us first. On our relationship with each other,” Robert adds.

Though he's not exactly sure what that means, Joseph nods his head to reassure them that they have his attention, and he's still following along. He's not about to interrupt them, especially about something so important, when he figures any and all questions he'll come up with will be answered soon enough anyway.

“Long story short, what Smalls is trying to say is that the three of us need to work on figuring out what we want, what we need, and how the other two are gonna fit into that,” Mary summarizes. “We still have a week before the kids get back, and I want things figured out between us as fast and as best we can before then.”

“How… How exactly are we going to do that?” Joseph asks.

Robert shakes his head, holding up a hand next to his ear and wagging a finger. “Not ‘we’,” he says. He points his finger at Joseph directly. “‘You’. Mary and I both know what we want from each other and from you. Everything from this point on hinges on you figuring out what you want from us and how you figure would be the best way to go about it. Until we know you can be honest with yourself, we'll always be doubting whether or not you can be honest with us, and that's no bueno.”

“Robby and I figured we should all just go about our usual daily business for now since, like he said, we don't want to rush things. But because, like we said, there's a time limit, and you're the one we're waiting on, so…” Mary continues where Robert leaves off. “We'll give you until Friday night —  that's three full days and nights from now — to figure it out, and then we'll talk some more, and go from there.”

“Sounds fair,” Joseph replies, “I just… I just hope I'll have things figured out by then.”

“There's no ‘hope you will’, Joseph,” Robert says, frowning, “That kinda thinking and attitude is what got us here in the first place. Figure your shit out, or we're going to decide for you. Which, believe me, is not something Mary and I wanna do.”

Robert gets up from the table, picking up the box with what's left of the regular Hawaiian pizza and gesturing to the both of them as he pushes in his chair. “Anyway, I'm gonna head out. I got stuff to do. See ya later.”

“Take care,” Joseph says, politely waving him off though he still can't look at him directly for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Take it sleazy, Smalls,” Mary bids him a farewell, waving briefly before moving to clear the table. Joseph stands up to help, but Mary shakes her head, the expression on her face somewhere between anxiety and sadness. “You should go too. It's getting late.”

For a brief moment, Joseph's brain can't quite comprehend what she's saying. This is his home; where else is he supposed to go? That is, until he remembers the situation and comes to the realization and understanding that staying under the same roof and sleeping in the same bed as his wife wouldn't really help the ‘figuring things out on your own’ part.

“Okay,” he replies, pushing in his chair. His body moves out of habit and before he knows it, he finds himself standing next to Mary, almost ready to lean over and kiss her on the cheek like he usually does before heading off to work at the church in the mornings. Mary clearly looks uncomfortable, but nevertheless leans towards him and wraps her arms around him in a brief, yet awkward hug.

“Good night, Mary,” Joseph says, returning the embrace before pulling away.

“Good night, Joseph,” she replies, before turning to nudge her own chair back in with her foot, unwilling to put down the glasses and wine to empty her hands. “Take the rest of the pizza with you, otherwise it's going into the trash.”

Joseph does as she says, taking the last of the pizza with him as he leaves the house.

As he makes his way down the sidewalk, he takes one last look at the cul-de-sac for the night, anxiety, relief, sadness, guilt, and several other emotions he can't quite name at the moment churning in his chest in one huge mess that occupies his chest like a heavy stone. He catches glimpses of Mary and of Robert, each peeking out of their respective bedroom windows, and the storm of emotion in his chest calms down just the tiniest bit.

He turns away and lets out a long sigh.

He has three days to sort himself out.

Joseph prays, for Mary's and Robert's sakes, that he has the strength to be honest with himself for a change.  


End file.
